


The Lorath

by raynewton



Category: Star Trek: Mirror Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 10:48:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynewton/pseuds/raynewton
Summary: Spock has gone through the Guardian into Vulcan's past; Kirk  follows him





	The Lorath

**Author's Note:**

> First appeared in Naked Times 3

 

The Lorath

by Ray Newton

McCoy stood staring at the tricorder for what seemed like centuries. "There's no mistake, Jim. He went through."

Kirk looked at the bleak structure with a combination of hatred and wonder, remembering what it had cost him once before; Edith and damned near the whole Federation as well.

"Guardian," he called at last, "where has he gone?"

"He has stepped into the past."

"Which past?" Kirk persisted.

The images began to flow through the Guardian, causing Kirk to nearly gasp aloud as he realized Spock was lost in the ancient, violent history of his own world. Thousands of strong Vulcan warriors marched before his eyes, anger and tribe-lust on their faces.

"I'm going after him, Bones," Kirk decided with finality. He took a step nearer to the Guardian.

"No, Jim!" McCoy darted forward, his sole thought to halt, at any cost, this insane venture. "Look again, for godsakes!" he begged. "Pre-Reform Vulcan - they've never seen a human before. How long do you think you'd survive apart from the risk of changing the past? And, Jim... he obviously doesn't want to be found."

"I wonder why." Kirk paused, his eyes suddenly intent. "In all the rush, I've never once asked why."

"He's ill," McCoy reminded him gently.

"Ill... yes... I thought that fever would never break... He raved endlessly, and I couldn't understand a word he said... except my name, sometimes... and he was pleading with me, Bones. For the first time he asked something of me, and I couldn't give it."

"He seemed rational enough when I last saw him," the doctor said cautiously.

"Rational? I didn't tell you... when he came round he looked at me with such - such joy in his eyes. They changed, and he seemed - terrified - he'd barely let me touch him. Then forty-eight hours later he stole a shuttlecraft, deserted my ship, and fled here. You heard the tape he left -'Do not seek for me - I do not wish to be found. Farewell.' He could go like that... after everything we've shared... because of me, Bones."

"You can't be certain," McCoy objected.

"I know." The quiet voice was steely with determination. "That's why I must go. I'll bring him back, or... "

"Jim!" Pain rasped harshly in the doctor's voice, and Kirk smiled fleetingly.

"Go back to the ship, Bones," he said gently, "and wait until... until you think there's no point in waiting any longer." He turned again to the enigmatic structure behind him. "Guardian, how can I contact you when I wish to return?"

"I shall attune to your communications device," the sonorous voice echoed. "A message will reach me."

"Very well. Bones..." He hesitated, wondering what he could say. "Goodbye, my friend."

"Good luck, Jim." Sadly, the doctor watched as the determined figure stepped into the Guardian at the correct moment and was veiled by the swirling mist; a few seconds later the mist cleared and only the ruined city could be seen through the gateway.

"The traveller has arrived."

McCoy stood, feeling utterly helpless. Jim had gone into a savage, barbaric world to seek a man who had taken terrible risks to evade him.

How could he survive? And the danger of cultural contamination... Spock hadn't been the only one not thinking too clearly.

With a heavy heart, McCoy turned away and opened his communicator.

***

  
James Kirk materialized on the hot red sand of the Vulcan desert. For a moment, he stared around blankly, then his sense of disorientation vanished. The landscape hadn't changed that much; he was close to Spock's native city - or to where it would stand in his own time.

Perhaps it might not be too difficult after all, he thought hopefully. Spock would surely head for familiar territory, and there were several places Kirk remembered... an oasis in the desert, a favoured camping site in the foothills... at least it was somewhere to start.

With a jolt, he remembered that in his haste he had made few preparations; he was still in uniform, carried his phaser and communicator... the clothes would merely seem strange to any Vulcan of this time, but the equipment...

Looking around, he selected a small hollow in the rocks and concealed his phaser. The communicator joined it - he would need it to return, but it would serve no purpose on his quest, for Spock had left his own in his quarters.

He did take the emergency pack he had unthinkingly snatched from the shuttle - a basic medical kit, a few food concentrates, and a small flask of water. Then, carefully memorizing the exact point of his arrival, Kirk set off for his first objective, a small oasis a few miles away, where he and Spock had sometimes camped on leave.

As he walked, he puzzled over the reason for Spock's sudden desertion, then pushed it to the back of his mind; the most important thing was to find the Vulcan - then he could ask his questions.

  
***

  
The oasis was deserted; the odds were that it would be, Kirk thought resignedly as he drank from the clear pool. He looked around; it was very little different from the place he knew. The hardy desert plants, seeding themselves again and again, the harsh outline of the sheltering rocks... even the trails marked by the desert dwellers who came to drink at the pool seemed to run exactly as he remembered them.

Kirk selected some fruit from one of the cactus-like plants and looked about for somewhere to spend the night. It would be cold, but a light thermal blanket had been included in the medical kit. His choice of refuge was a deep, narrow fissure - scarcely a cave - amidst the rocks some distance from the pool. He would be out of the direct path of the night-hunting le-matyas as they came in search of water, but for added protection he piled some rocks in front of the entrance, pulling them in after him. It was a flimsy enough barrier, but the best he could do.

He ate the fruit, thankful he could save the concentrates for a time of greater need, then curled up in the warmth of the blanket. Tomorrow, he thought, he would set about fashioning some weapons - a bow, a spear, perhaps... Spock had shown him how. At the moment, he had only two small knives from the medical kit - poor defenses against the fangs and claws of a le-matya. Then he would move on, following the line of the hills to Spock's next possible hiding place.

He was tired, having had very little sleep in his pursuit of the Vulcan, but for some time he lay restlessly awake. The Enterprise seemed very far away, separated from him by an immense gulf of years... and somehow she seemed strangely unreal. Kirk considered that with curiosity - for so long she had been the most important thing in his life. The Enterprise... and Spock... they were inseparable in his mind: the ship that was his life, the friend who had shared that life with him.

If I have to go back without Spock... Kirk shook himself mentally, and pushed the depressing thought away, concentrating on a grim determination that he would succeed. Then, closing his eyes, he curled up and slept.

***

  
Kirk was awakened in the morning by a slow, persistent scratching at the entrance to his refuge; he looked up cautiously to see sharp claws deliberately pulling away the loose stones, and behind the claws a massive furry head, lips drawn back in a snarl to reveal wicked fangs. It was a sehlat, and with sudden alarm, Kirk remembered that, in pre-Reform Vulcan times, sehlats were as savage as they looked, and were often used as hunting animals.

The last of the stones fell away and, to Kirk's horror, a voice spoke in a tone of inquiry, obviously asking what the animal had found. Instinctively, he shrank back as far as he could, but the man stooped and peered into the cave; seeing the huddled figure, he reached in and effortlessly pulled Kirk out into the daylight.

Kirk found himself at the center of a small group of four Vulcans who were staring at him with open astonishment. The sehlat - now leashed, he saw with relief, strained forward, growling ominously. One of the Vulcans quietened it with a word of command, then barked a question at Kirk. The human could only shake his head in noncomprehension.

Apparently making up his mind, the Vulcan who had spoken grasped Kirk's arm and pulled him forward, the others following as they headed away from the rocks and toward the oasis.

As he walked, Kirk saw that an encampment had been set up around the pool, protected by a circle of wagons, a group of tents clustered near the water, and mounted guards kept careful watch. His guard led Kirk into the largest of the tents, pushed him to him knees before an elderly, richly-dressed Vulcan, and at once launched into a lengthy speech, presumably describing how he had come by his captive.

The elderly Vulcan studied Kirk with frank curiosity and astonishment, then spoke to him.

But again, Kirk shook his head, indicating that he did not understand. The man tried again, watched for any response, and when none was forthcoming, spoke for a third time.

This time Kirk understood; the dialect was similar to modern Vulcan, though some of the words were unfamiliar. The man had asked, "What are you?"

Caution made Kirk hesitate to reveal how much he understood; though he spoke the language hesitantly, he understood much of what Spock had said to him in the past, and he thought he might learn more if his captors thought him ignorant of the language.

Deciding it would be best to make some response however, he said haltingly, "I cannot remember," hoping that his stumbling speech would deceive his captors.

"It is intelligent at least!" the Vulcan remarked to his fellows.

"What is it, lord?" The man seemed nervous. "Look at its ears, and its skin... Is it a demon?"

"Not a very powerful one, to be so easily captured," the older man chuckled. "Yet it is certainly not a Vulcan - even the barbaric tribes of the mountains do not have such a strange appearance." Indicating himself, he pronounced clearly, "I am Segon. This is Simar. Your name?"

"James Kirk."

"A curious name for a curious creature. How came you here, Kirk? Where are your people?"

"I do not know." Kirk shrugged helplessly. "I awoke in the cave - that is all I remember."

"Do you belong to anyone?"

Kirk stared blankly, not understanding the question, and Segon laughed.

"You do now. Collar him, Simar."

It took Kirk a few seconds to translate the order, and by the time he understood, the Vulcan had snapped a heavy metal collar around his neck; outraged, he struggled furiously, but was helpless in his captor's strong grip.

Segon rose and approached him. "Your first lesson; defiance is always punished."

Taking an ornately carved rod from his belt, Segon touched it to Kirk's neck and the human convulsed in agony as a searing pain leaped from the point of contact through his entire body. Gasping, he slumped in Simar's grip, and was too weak to protest when, in response to an order from Segon, the Vulcan stripped him.

Resuming his seat, the older man studied Kirk tentatively. "Male, and fully mature," he said consideringly, "yet as weak as a woman. Intelligent though and therefore trainable... Confine him, Simar, while I consider what best to do with him."

Kirk was pushed - not ungently - from the tent, and taken over to the semi-circle of wagons; as he passed them, Kirk saw that some were no more than wheeled cages, roofed and shielded on three sides by a canvas cover. Through the bars, he could see that the cages held groups of young men and women... all naked, all, like himself, collared. Belatedly, he realized that this was Segon's 'merchandise' - the man was a slave trader.

One of the wagons held a number of small cages containing animals; he saw a pair of sehlats, a ferocious-looking lahrat, and a half-grown le-matya kitten. Simar unfastened one of the empty cages, pushed Kirk inside, and secured the door. He then pulled down the canvas over the open side of the cage and left the human to his own devices.

A swift inspection convinced Kirk that he could not escape from the cage - he could not even reach far enough to loosen the cover to see out. The cage was high enough to permit him to stand upright, large enough so that he could lie down, but it was completely empty - the others had at least had some dried grass strewn on the floor. There were no sanitary arrangements, of course, only a small hole cut in the floor of the wagon, and this, too, was barred, affording no escape. Kirk sat down in one corner, summoning up all his patience, hoping that, sooner or later, he would have an opportunity to escape.

  
***

  
For four days he was left alone. Soon after his confinement, the wagon lurched into movement, and he guessed that the caravan had moved on. Each morning, he was given a bowl of thick porridge and a small flask of water, each evening a dish of rich stew. Obviously, the prohibition against eating meat had not yet come into force, and he ate hungrily, enjoying the meal.

He was very thirsty, for he was given water only in the morning, and despite his attempts to ration himself, he found that it evaporated quickly in the heat.

By day he was hot, for although the canvas kept the sun off him, it turned the cage into a tormenting furnace. At night, he shivered with cold, for although Simar had tossed him a blanket the first evening, it provided little comfort against the bitter cold of the desert night. Both heat and cold made it difficult for him to sleep, and he became conscious of a strange lethargy that seemed to make every movement an effort.

Simar, though he brought his food regularly, never spoke, and refused to answer any questions. Kirk no longer wasted energy in asking; at each visit the Vulcan would study him in silence for a few minutes, then nod in satisfaction as he left.

On the fifth day, the cart halted abruptly at an unscheduled hour; there was some shouting, then after a few moments, the canvas was flung back and Kirk blinked in the sudden, blinding light. When he could see again, the cage had been unlocked and a leash had been fastened to his collar.

"Come!" Simar ordered, pulling him to his feet.

Kirk was led past the line of wagons to the head of the caravan. Beyond, Segon stood with some of his guards, studying something on the ground.

The slaver turned at Kirk's approach. "Look'" he commanded, and Kirk followed his pointing finger.

Beside the long-cold ashes of a campfire lay the skeleton of - presumably - a Vulcan, the bones oddly scattered.

"Le-matya work," Segon observed. "This was found beside the body - you will recognize it, I think."

Kirk gazed dumbly at the scrap of blue cloth, at the remains of the science insignia, the gold, horribly dimmed with dried blood. Unbelievingly, he looked back at the skeleton. "No!" he gasped. "Oh, god, no! Not you!"

Frantically, he lunged forward, and Simar dropped the leash; Kirk stumbled across to fall on his knees beside these oddly-scattered bones. Reaching out, he lifted the skull in gentle hands, seeing with horror the fang-marks where it had been gnawed; he gazed desperately into the blank, empty sockets, trying to understand that those gentle brown eyes would never again look into his with their almost-invisible smile.

A hand fell on his shoulder and the skull was taken from him. "Come," Segon said firmly, "you can do nothing here."

Kirk looked up, suddenly blinded by tears. "Let me stay with him," he begged.

"To share his fate? Little one, you are too valuable to be food for a le-matya. Come now." The leash was tightened, he was pulled to his feet, and led back to his cage. The curtain was replaced, and he crouched in the dimness, panting for breath as though he had been running. He was still holding the precious scrap of material, and his fingers tightened about it convulsively. Spock was dead... he no longer cared what his own fate might be. Tears poured soundlessly from his eyes as he wept for his friend in an agony of grief and desolation; he wept until there were no more tears then, exhausted, lapsed into a haunted half-sleep in which he whimpered in pain, and clutched the stained scrap of material tightly. There was nothing else left to do now.

  
***

  
When the caravan halted for the night, no food was brought to Kirk; instead, Simar came to lead him to Segon's tent. The merchant eyed him keenly.

"We remain here for some days, Kirk. An excellent opportunity to begin your training."

"Training?" Kirk asked dully. He was not really interested - now that Spock was dead, any other life seemed remote and dreamlike.

"Indeed. You are useless as you are, with no skills.to tempt a buyer. Physical labour is obviously out of the question, your ability to speak  
is clearly retarded, your knowledge of our language poor, rendering you useless as a scribe. However, balancing your ignorance and your frailty, you have one asset - your exotic appearance. You will be trained as a lorath."

"A lorath?" Kirk repeated; the word was unfamiliar to him.

"A... How shall I say... a pleasure slave. Many of our people have a taste for the unusual and the bizarre; with proper training you will grace some nobleman's bed."

For a moment, Kirk remained silent until the implications of Segon's explanation sank in. He coloured fiercely, much to the Vulcan's interest, then, revolted by the idea, he leaped to his feet. "No! I won't submit to that!" He rushed at Segon and succeeded in getting his hands around the Vulcan's neck; it would be impossible to escape, he thought wildly, but perhaps Simar, in order to save his employer's life, would be forced to kill him - better a clean death than the degradation that lay before him.

He had forgotten Vulcan speed and strength; even as he tightened his grip, Simar's hand fell on his shoulder, strong fingers probing for the vulnerable spot, and Kirk slumped silently to the ground.

"Indeed an unpredictable specimen," Segon remarked, rubbing his bruised throat.

  
***

  
When Kirk regained consciousness, he was lying on a couch in Segon's tent; an elderly Vulcan wearing a slave collar bent over him.

"He is awake, lord," the stranger announced.

"Excellent, healer; you may leave." Segon came into view. "That was foolish, Kirk," he chided. "I will pardon you this once, but any repetition will be punished - painfully. Now, attend to me closely. My healer reports that you have never been with a man; this increases your value, and I will see to it that you fulfil my expectations. Simar, my freedman, will begin your training at once - he has much experience, and loraths trained by him command a high price. You will obey him and - "

"I won't!" Kirk swore through gritted teeth. "You'll have to kill me... or I'll kill myself..."

"You will not," the slaver disputed calmly. "Since your capture, you have been fed kothar, an addictive drug that weakens the will. Deprived of it, you will beg for it to be restored, and you will do anything to obtain it. In addition, though I do not possess the gift of mind-speech, I do have certain abilities... While you were unconscious, I implanted in your mind the compulsion to obey me - and any other to whom I give authority over you. You will obey Simar, and learn all that he has to teach you. Simar!"

The Vulcan stepped forward. "Yes, lord?"

"Teach him only obedience and the customary behaviour - his more intimate duties will be best taught by whoever buys him. Since I propose to sell him as an exotic, his ignorance will be an additional attraction."

"I obey, lord." Simar turned to Kirk. "Stand up, slave."

To his horror, Kirk found himself obeying the command without conscious thought; he rose slowly to his feet and stood by the couch, waiting.

  
***

  
Over the next few days, Kirk's training continued without a break. He worked until he was exhausted, was permitted only a few hours' rest, then shaken awake to begin all over again.

It did not seem difficult, but Simar was satisfied only with perfection, and he was made to repeat his lessons again and again, driven by the threat of the painful goad, and by the implanted compulsion to obey.

He was taught how to stand and kneel in his master's presence, how to prepare food and serve wine, how to care for his master's clothes and weapons. Using a dummy for practice, he was taught massage, where the sensitive areas on a Vulcan were located, and how to arouse his master by touch.

If he hesitated or faltered, the burning touch of the goad brought swift punishment; when he refused to perform as instructed, the mind-control was used to compel obedience, then retribution came when he was denied kothar. He had very swiftly become addicted, his body cried out for the drug, and Simar would withhold his ration until he voluntarily performed the action he had initially resisted.

Physically, he was well cared for. Food was good and plentiful, and when the Vulcans discovered he needed extra water, it was given. An elderly slave supervised his daily routine, bathing him in sweet-smelling oils, and smoothing lotion into his body to enhance the unusual colour of his skin. His hair was brushed until it shone, even his fingernails were tended, but Segon - to his relief - vetoed the suggestion that his face be painted in the customary fashion.

"His unusual beauty is his strongest selling point," the slaver decreed. "He cannot be made to look Vulcan, so we must capitalize on what we have."

One evening, as he finished his meal, Simar returned for him. "The master has decided that, since you are virgin, you should be shown fully what your new duties will be. One of the guards is to be rewarded with the use of a skilled slave - you will watch and learn. Pay close attention, for you will be questioned."

Kirk rose and followed Simar to a smaller tent; they entered a screened-off section which afforded an excellent view of the larger room beyond.

A young Vulcan who seemed to be about Kirk's age was kneeling beside a couch, his face painted in the traditional manner, and dressed only in a thin silk-like tunic.

One of Segon's guards entered, and Kirk watched numbly as the youth rose to attend his temporary master, assisting him into a casual robe, serving food and wine. Kirk longed to avert his eyes as the man reached, at last, for his companion, but feared the punishment he would be given if he could not describe what had occurred to Simar's satisfaction.

The guard was intent on making the most of his opportunity; his caresses soon had the youth writhing on the bed. It was then that every nerve in Kirk's body jangled, for the slave raised pleading eyes to his master and gasped out a phrase that Kirk could not translate. He did not understand it, but he recognized it; Spock, in his delirium, had spoken the same words several times.

At last, Simar touched his arm and gestured him away; back in Segon's tent, he questioned the human carefully, and seemed satisfied that Kirk understood what was expected of him.

"Have you any questions?" he asked at last. Kirk started. "Well, yes. What did the slave say to the guard before he... before he... "

"Before he was taken? The boy is well-trained and experienced. He flattered his master by simulating desire for his touch. The words are from a famous and very ancient poem often quoted by lovers; they mean... " He hesitated, seeking words Kirk could understand. "They mean, 'Give me your love, slake my thirst with your kisses, I burn only for you'."

"I see." Kirk followed docilely as he was led to his cot; since being freed from the cage, he had slept in Segon's tent - 'To protect my investment,' the Vulcan had explained.

When Simar left him, Kirk reached under his pillow, seeking the scrap of stained cloth he treasured.

"Oh, Spock," he whispered sadly, "is that why you fled? You were afraid you'd betrayed your love for me, and that I would despise you for it. The waste... the pitiful waste... "

Bowing his head an his folded arms, Kirk tasted the supreme bitterness of the situation. Spock had fled lest his love embarrass Kirk - and the human, by following, had landed himself in this plight, far worse than anything that could have happened to him at Spock's hands. "At least you loved me," he murmured.

"What are you doing, slave?" Segon's silent approach took Kirk by surprise, and he looked up quickly.

  
"I was just..." he stammered, but the slaver was not listening.

"What have you there?" Reaching down, he pulled the scrap of cloth from Kirk's fingers. "Your lover?" he asked, tilting the insignia to the light.

"No... but... he might have been," Kirk answered slowly, then gave a cry of protest as the slaver tossed the cloth into the stove which warmed the tent. "Why... why did you do that?" he asked. "It was all I had left... "

"Slave, I will give you some advice." Segon's voice was not unkind. "In three days we reach the great Gathering of Vulcan; at the market there you will be sold. Whoever or whatever you were is gone, and you cannot return. Do not think of the past - study to please your master and your life will not be harsh, for as an expensive luxury, you will be well-treated. If you are sullen and brood over what you have lost... you will suffer. Now rest; in the morning we resume our journey."

  
***

  
During the next three days, Kirk worked out a plan. Segon had used mind-control to inhibit any attempt at suicide, but if he seemed docile and submissive, his new master might neglect that precaution. While he could not escape, for he had nowhere to go and did not even know how to find his way back to the Guardian, there was one other alternative; he could die.

In any other circumstances, he would have rejected the thought of suicide, but here he had no choice; his will was weakening daily under the influence of the drug, and it was either death or the acceptance of a degraded slavery his soul shrank from with revulsion. That being so, death was preferable, and he deliberately gave the impression of one resigned to his fate so that Segon smiled contentedly, convinced that his advice had been taken.

  
***

  
They reached the Plain of Gathering three days later, and Segon's caravan was directed to its allotted site in the market place. There was an auction block for lesser slaves, but Segon's captives, being choice specimens, were to be sold privately; a large tent was set up, divided into small booths, one slave to each, so that he or she could be examined and considered individually.

Kirk was led into his booth and chained to a low couch. Otherwise, the booth contained only a chair and a small table bearing wine for prospective purchasers.

The first customers began to filter in, and Kirk found himself reddening in shame under their interested scrutiny, desperately conscious of the clinging silk of the tunic he had been given to wear. To these Vulcans, he was an object of curiosity, and many showed keen interest in him. But when the price was mentioned, each client in turn shook his head and moved on.

Despite his nervousness, Kirk could not help but be interested in the buyers, and watched them intently; one in particular caught his attention; a tall Vulcan warrior who was moving slowly down the line of booths opposite him.

The man turned his head, and Kirk caught his breath as he saw the crimson veil which covered the man's face - not merely a warrior, but a Warrior. Spock had often told him of the legendary mercenaries who, in the old time, had roamed the land, testing each other's skill in combat, occasionally uniting in uneasy alliance for a specific campaign under a stronger leader. They were the most savage fighters the galaxy had ever known - the Klingons of his own time were mere children by comparison - he had never thought to actually see one...

His thoughts were interrupted when Segon ushered a client into the booth: a young, richly dressed Vulcan whose keen eyes surveyed Kirk with eager anticipation.

"He is everything you promised, Segon, and more," the man purred, and Kirk stiffened at the gloating tone. "Virgin, you said? He will give me much pleasure - strip him for me."

Segon reached for the fastening of Kirk's tunic, the human shrank back. Yet, even as the slaver's face darkened in anger, a quiet voice said coldly, "This slave is mine."

Kirk looked up to see the Warrior he had noticed earlier standing in the entrance to the booth.

"I saw him first!" the young nobleman snapped, and Segon shifted uneasily.

"My lord, I cannot recommend him for your needs," he said nervously to the Warrior. "He is untrained, too weak to keep up with you in your travels... he cannot fight at your side... let me suggest a more suitable..."

"I wish this one." The Warrior's voice was inflexible. "He is sufficiently unusual to provide a diversion during the long desert nights and he can be trained as I wish. However," the Warrior's shielded eyes slid to his rival, "if you wish to dispute my claim, the challenge arena is nearby."

"I'm not fool enough for than" the Vulcan snapped. "I concede him to you - and besides," he added spitefully as he edged past the Warrior, "I am not accustomed to mating with animals; the creature is clearly not Vulcan."

The Warrior ignored his departure, turning his veiled head to survey Kirk. "Your name, slave?"

"Jim Kirk."

"And what are you, Jim Kirk?"

"I cannot remember."

"That is true, my lord," Segon broke in. "He was captured in the desert, unable to say how he came there. I do not have mind-speech, but I was able to impose the necessary inhibitions. My healer tried, while the creature was unconscious, but reported that his mind fled before him like quicksilver. He seems docile, however, and I guarantee that he is untouched."

"No need for your sales talk, merchant - I have already said that I will take him. Have him equipped for desert travel, find him a mount, and I will collect him in two hours."

"As you command, lord." Segon bowed respectfully. "There remains the question of payment - he is expensive... "

"Will this suffice?" The Warrior tossed Segon a purse and cut short the man's excited thanks. "In two hours - see that he is ready." Turning, he vanished into the crowd.

Segon unfastened Kirk's chain and led him back to his tent, calling orders as he went. The slave who had tended Kirk hurried in, bearing a desert suit of soft, supple leather, with matching boots that reached to the knee; a headcloth completed the outfit, covering his hair and neck, long enough to protect his face from the desert sun. He was given a satchel containing two tunics and sandals, but no food.

"Your master will feed you if it pleases him," Segon told him. "Kirk, you will not find your new life easy - the Warriors have little regard for life, and your price will not prevent him from punishing you severely if you anger him. Now, drink this before you go - it will give you energy."

He handed Kirk a goblet of fruit juice and the human drank it thirstily. It had been hot in the tent. '

"One more thing before you leave." Segon indicated the goblet. "I have just given you an extra ration of kothar - it will render you compliant when your master demands your services. However, for your own sake and my reputation, I wish to make certain." Taking Kirk's head between his hands, he looked deeply into the hazel eyes, fixing the human with his compelling gaze. "Before I break my hold over you, I give you one final order; tonight, after you have served food, you will offer yourself to your master as you have been taught."

"No!" Kirk whispered.

"You will obey," the slaver commanded. "The drug will heat your blood and make you desire his caress - you will remember and you will obey."

"Yes, lord," Kirk sighed, unable to do otherwise, and Segon released him.

"Come," the slaver said. "Your master will be waiting."

  
***

  
It was about two hours' ride to the Warrior's camp. Simar, who had handed him over, had explained that, except on the rare occasions when they banded together, the Warriors were solitary and, for this reason, his master's camp would be well outside the area of the Gathering.

Kirk found little difficulty in controlling his mount; he was accustomed to riding with Spock, but the intense heat made him grateful when they topped a low rise and saw the camp below them. There was a pool of water, with a large tent pitched in the shade of the cactus-like trees, and a smaller, shabby tent some distance away. A fire had been laid between the two, and three pack animals waited patiently where they had been tethered.

A middle-aged Vulcan came to meet him as they rode up. He took their mounts without a word and led them aside. Kirk learned later that the man was mute; for the moment, however, all that he could see was the hideous scarring of one side of his face where, at one time, the man had been horribly burned.

The Warrior gestured Kirk inside the tent, but did not enter himself. The human changed into one of the tunics as he had been instructed, then explored the interior of the tent.

It was richly, though barbarically, furnished; with interest, he examined the displayed weapons, shuddering at the memories evoked by a razor-sharp lirpa. There was little furniture, but the floor had been covered with rich furs to make a soft carpet, and on a raised platform, more of the furs formed the bed. A low couch, a table beside it, and a small stove to provide heat completed the furnishings.

A sound behind him made him start, but it was only the disfigured slave; the man beckoned Kirk to follow him to the cooking fire, where he helped the human prepare a meal. Then, taking a tray of food for himself, he retired to the small tent, leaving Kirk to serve the remainder to his master.

He had just finished setting the food on the table when the Warrior came in; he had been bathing in the pool, and had changed into a rich silk robe. However, his face was still veiled, and Kirk remembered Spock telling him that the veils were seldom removed, and that for a Warrior to reveal his face was a gesture of great trust.

The Vulcan reclined beside the table, and Kirk served him nervously but correctly; he poured wine, then knelt, head bowed, waiting until his master gave him permission to eat. A few moments later, he was handed a plate. Taking it with a murmur of thanks, he retired to the corner of the tent, his mind far away.

When he had finished eating, Kirk gazed across at his master nervously; the Vulcan was sipping his wine, apparently having forgotten his slave's presence.

Segon's final command pounded in Kirk's brain, but even as he tried to resist the compulsion, desire began to flicker in him as the slaver had promised. Slowly, reluctantly, horrified by his actions but powerless to resist, Kirk moved forward until he knelt submissively beside his master's couch.

For a moment, he hesitated, licking his lips nervously. Then, as if of its own volition, his hand reached out to rest on the Warrior's thigh; the Vulcan still did not acknowledge his presence, and as the implanted compulsion grew stronger, Kirk inserted his hand between the folds of the robe until his exploring fingers encountered hot, moist flesh.

His touch startled the Vulcan out of his reverie. "Do not touch me!" To Kirk's astonishment, his master flinched away, and the human stared up apprehensively - what had he done wrong?

Strong hands closed an his shoulders, shaking him violently. "I did not command... " The Vulcan's voice faded as he took in the wide, glazed eyes. "So, you have been drugged," he continued more gently. "That poisonous kothar, I suppose?"

Kirk nodded, then said hesitantly. "Have I displeased you, master? I am... ignorant of what I should do... if you would explain your wishes... "

"I require only that you sit down and listen to me, Jim Kirk." The Vulcan sank down with him until they sat looking at one another, Kirk suddenly aware of a wish to see those shadowed eyes. "I did not buy you for the reason you suppose - I will not force you into my bed. Do you understand?"

"No." Kirk shook his head. "Segon told me... he said... that you'd treat me as some sort of exotic pet... that I must please you... "

"You will please me best if you sleep. The drug must pass from your system before you are rational enough for discussion. It will be difficult, but I will help you."

He was pushed back onto the couch and settled comfortably; a cover was drawn over him, the lamps dimmed, and he was left to sleep.

  
***

  
The next two days were a nightmare as the kothar burned its way out of Kirk's system. His mind and body craved the drug so that he writhed helplessly, begging, pleading, promising his master anything if he would give him even a little. The sane part of his mind recoiled in shame at his behaviour, but to his astonishment, the Vulcan accepted it tranquilly, showing no impatience or disgust. He tended the human carefully, bathing his flushed face, soothing him when the agonies of cramp and nausea racked his body. Gradually, the spasms subsided, then wholly abated, and Kirk slipped into a dreamless, refreshing sleep.

He woke on the third morning feeling weak and tired, but clear-headed. He lay for a time puzzling over the Warrior's curious behaviour, then started up as the tent flap opened and the Vulcan came in. "You are awake - excellent. Now you must try to eat."

Sevor, the mute slave, set a tray by the couch, and from behind the crimson veil, the shadowed eyes studied the human.

"You lied to Segon - you will not lie to me," he said at last. "Where do you come from?"

Kirk gestured helplessly. "You won't believe me."

"Tell me."

"I am... from the future." Somehow, it was impossible to resist that invisible but compelling gaze. "I came here... to seek a friend. He... he died, and I'm lost - I don't know how to get back."

"If I return you to where you were found," the Warrior began, "would you then be able to return to your own people?"

"Yes." Kirk looked up, startled. "You believe me?"

"Why should I not? You are clearly not of Vulcan - your explanation will serve as well as any."

"And... you're willing to let me go. Why?"

"A slave does not question his master," the Vulcan said absently. "Let us say... I have my reasons."

"But I thought... you wanted... " Kirk coloured painfully, remembering the advances he had made to this man.

"I will not use you as you fear." Why did he feel the Vulcan was hiding something? "Do not feel shame at your actions on your first night in my tent - they were the result of too much kothar... nothing more." He rose swiftly. "We must remain here until the end of the Gathering - it is expected - and then I will take you wherever you wish to go. In the meantime, you will serve me as personal attendant. Think of me as your master - it will be safer so."

"Of course," Kirk replied, "and... thank you."

"I do not want your thanks, Jim Kirk." The slim body stiffened. "Be assured - if it did not suit me to free you, I would not do so. We will not trouble each other with questions or explanations; until we part, you are my slave - remember that."

"Yes, sir," Kirk replied in a chastened tone.

  
***

  
The following day, Kirk was so much recovered that the Warrior took him to visit the Gathering. Kirk enjoyed himself, making the most of an opportunity granted to no other human - to witness the meeting of the Vulcan clans in all their barbaric splendor. He wandered with his master through the marketplace, his eyes wide with interest at this new glimpse of a way of life long vanished from the ordered, logical Vulcan he knew. For all their savagery, these people had a zest for living, and though he could not condone many of their attitudes, he could, for the first time, appreciate the ancestors whose blood had come down to his dearest friend - not only human emotions had been present in Spock, but also some echo of these magnificent warriors.

He was quickly grateful that the Warrior had permitted him to wear the desert suit he had been given; in the shade of the market place, he had pulled off the headcloth, and his alien and exotic appearance attracted considerable comment. The Vulcan received many offers for him, offers which he refused abruptly, and at last he halted, eyed Kirk consideringly, then placed an arm around his waist and drew him close.

Kirk stiffened instinctively, then realized that many Vulcans were walking so with their slaves; the gesture seemed to indicate that the slave was cherished, and from then on the offers ceased.

It was late afternoon when they returned to the camp where Sevor was preparing their evening meal. Kirk smiled encouragingly at the man as he dismounted, and received a pleased grunt in return. Sevor had developed an almost dog-like devotion to his master's strange slave.

In the tent, Kirk glanced at the Vulcan. "I would like to bathe after the ride," he said. The Vulcan nodded permission, and Kirk hurried down to the pool; it was only when he reached the water's edge that he realized he had forgotten to bring a towel. Rather than disturb Sevor, he quickly returned to fetch one.

The comparative dimness of the tent made it difficult for him to see, but as his eyes began to adjust, he realized that his master was sitting with his back to him, combing his sleek, black hair; the discarded veil lay in a shimmer of crimson beside him.

Lowering his eyes - for he had been warned that it was forbidden to look on his master's unveiled face without permission - Kirk moved aside. But his eyes were still not fully accustomed to the dimness; he tripped, and realized with horror that he was falling directly onto the bed of glowing coals Sevor had prepared to keep their food hot until they required it. There was nothing he could do to save himself, nothing to grab hold of... the coals were white-hot... he would be badly burned...

"Jim!" There was a scream of anguish, a flurry of movement, strong arms caught him and snatched him out of danger; he half-lay over his master's arm, his heart pounding as he gazed up into a familiar, beloved face, into dark eyes shining with concern and fear.

"Spock!" he managed to gasp, then closed his eyes, convinced that he must be hallucinating.

He felt himself being lifted and laid on the couch; he looked up, scarcely daring to hope... and Spock was sitting beside him, as impassive as he had been the first day Kirk had seen him... so long ago on the Enterprise.

06 course, he doesn't realize that I know, Kirk thought. I must be careful... Schooling himself to deceptive calm, he said, "Spock?"

"I am here, Captain." The calm tone belied the voice that had screamed his name with such fear and anguish. "You are unharmed - the fire did not touch you?"

"Damn the fires!" Kirk sat up abruptly and seized the slim shoulders. "I thought... I thought you were dead... " Despite his resolve to keep control, a sob caught in his throat at the memory of the pain he had felt looking down at those scattered bones.

"Captain... Jim... " The quiet voice was hesitant. "I cannot explain why I left - please just accept that I had to go. I will answer no questions."

Kirk's heart sank momentarily. "I'll ask none then," he said, his fingers tightening. "I'm only glad to have you safe. You'll come back with me - "

"I cannot." Such pain in two words.

"Why?"

"Because here I am not... out of place. The reasons which caused me to go still exist. Nothing has changed, save that I must see you safely back to your point of entry. Jim... why did you follow me?"

"Did you think I wouldn't?" Kirk demanded gently. "No, I don't suppose you were thinking at all, were you? Spock, I need you - come back... or at least tell me why you won't."

"I cannot," Spock repeated. "I wish you to remember me as your friend, not as... as... "

"As what, Spock?" Kirk's voice was very soft as he felt the slim body tremble under his hands. For a moment, he thought his friend would answer, then he felt the muscles tighten, and sighed with disappointment.

"Captain, I will not answer. I will take you back, and I shall remain here. Please do not make this more difficult for me - for both of us."

"Very well, Spock." Kirk's tone was resigned, but privately he determined that this would not be the end of the discussion, that the struggle was not yet over.

Spock shot him a suspicious glance, seemed about to speak, then sat up abruptly.

"Riders, coming fast! Do not leave the tent, Jim."

Snatching up the veil, he covered his face and went out; Kirk moved so that, by lifting the tent flap slightly, he could see out.

A group of Warriors reined their mounts to a halt and saluted Spock. Their Leader, more richly dressed than the others, spoke.

"Greetings, Brother."

Spock stepped forward and there was a brief discussion; the Leader held something out, Spock took it, then all the riders dismounted. Following them came their slaves, and before Kirk's astonished eyes, a small encampment grew up around the pool.

As the riders moved around, he retired to the rear of the tent until Spock returned. "What's happening?"

Spock sat down. "A complication, Jim. I have been summoned to join a war party, and cannot refuse without considerable difficulty. Your return will be delayed until I can find an excuse to leave the party."

"Why must you join?" Kirk asked. "You told me the Warriors roamed independently."

"Normally, they do. However, there are certain Warriors who have the prestige to call others to join a war party for a specific purpose - in this case, to repel invading tribes from the northern mountains. The only way I can evade this duty is to challenge the Leader, and that I dare not risk. If he defeats me, everything I own - including you - becomes his property; if I defeat him, he is of sufficient importance that his death may significantly alter the future - our past." Spock attached an engraved badge to his shoulder. "I must appear to fall in with his wishes for the moment - and I need your help."

"I understand. What do you want me to do?"

"Play the part you were trained for, as my lorath. Do not leave this tent without me and, Jim... do not be alarmed if I... I..."

"Act as though you've been sleeping with me? It's all right, Spock."

"Thank you, Jim. Now, I must attend a meeting of the Warriors. I will send Sevor to guard you." Spock seemed as though he was about to say more, then changed his mind and left the tent. Kirk sat down to wait with what patience he could muster.

  
***

  
Nearly two hours dragged slowly past, and Spock did not return. Outside the tent, the Warriors' slaves built up the fire and set about preparing a meal for their masters. Mindful of Spock's instructions, Kirk remained within the tent.

He had discovered how to communicate with Sevor - the slave could write, and Kirk could read something of the Vulcan dialect that seemed to be the ancestor of the language he knew; he had found a writing slate among Spock's belongings, and when Sevor had anything to say, he wrote on that.

Partly to pass the time, and partly because he was curious as to how Spock had acquired his identity, Kirk asked, "Sevor, how did you become our master's property?"

The slave pulled out his slate and began to write; when he had covered the subface, he handed it to Kirk, waited for him to decipher it.

He had belonged, he wrote, to another Warrior. They had been travelling in the Great Desert when they had encountered a Vulcan wandering alone, without supplies or companions. His master had been puzzled - the stranger was clearly no Warrior, but neither was he a slave; he was strangely dressed, and would answer no questions about himself. The Warrior, at a loss as to how to deal with him, for the code of honour was very strict, decided to deal with him as he would a fellow Warrior, and had challenged. The stranger seemed reluctant to fight, but when the Warrior attacked, he defended himself vigorously. The fight had been savage and prolonged, but to Sevor's surprise, the stranger had defeated his master - Sevor rather thought that the man intended to spare the Warrior's life, but in their final encounter the man had fallen on his knife, and was killed.

"Our master changed clothes with the Warrior and left his body to the desert as is their custom," Sevor wrote. "I knelt before him in submission, and when he found that I could not speak, I learned that he is one of those who have mind-speech. He decided to visit the Gathering - I think he had no certain plans - and sought a breathing space. He has been kind to me, despite my lack of speech and my disfigurement."

"He would be," Kirk murmured. "Go on, Sevor." Taking the slate again, the slave continued, "He even gave me a few coins to spend in the market. I heard of the - forgive me - the strange slave Segon had for sale, and told him of it as a curiosity. He made me describe what I had heard - that the slave had hair and eyes of gold, skin as pale as starlight, and peculiar rounded ears. When he heard the description, he left at once for Segon's tent... and came back with you."

"But..." Kirk broke off hurriedly as he saw movement in the camp. "They're leaving the Leader's tent - I think the master is coming."

Spock entered hurriedly. "Join the other slaves, Sevor," he instructed kindly. "You will be required to help serve the meal. Jim, you must join me - all the Warriors have their loraths with them, and it will cause offense if I keep mine hidden in my tent, especially as they have heard of you. Have no fear - I will protect you. Sevor will come for you when it is time."

***

  
Kirk changed into one of his tunics and waited nervously, reflecting that at least his alien appearance would help smooth over any mistakes he made. Sevor summoned him at last, and picking up a wineskin and a goblet, he followed the slave to where the Warriors feasted.

Screens had been set up around the fire, containing the heat against the chilly Vulcan night; the flames burned high, and Kirk blinked in the light as he stepped through the screens, wincing as he heard the loud, appreciative remarks of the Warriors.

Keeping his eyes lowered, he hurried to Spock's side and knelt to pour wine, grateful that the Vulcan's body concealed his shaking hands from the watchful eyes.

"You have a prize there, Brother," one of the Warriors called. "But... what is he? Vulcan has never seen his like."

"He lacks memory, and so cannot tell me." Spock's hand ruffled Kirk's hair. "However, he pleases me."

"So long as he performs well on the furs," Spock's immediate neighbor chuckled. "Would you sell him, Brother? Or lend him to me for the night? I have a fancy to test his skill."

"He is not for sale," Spock replied smoothly. "As for the other... he is so recent an acquisition that I have not yet had time to savor him fully. I must refuse."

The Vulcan grunted, and turned to speak to his other neighbor. Kirk glanced around, realizing that each Vulcan was attended by a submissively kneeling lorath - only the work slaves hurried about serving food.

Suddenly, across the fire, he saw one of the Warriors reach up to pull his slave down to lie beside him; colouring, he looked away to see the man next to them - the man who had offered to buy him - was fumbling under his own slave's tunic. He glanced hastily around, realizing that almost all the Warriors were similarly occupied - then gasped as Spock pulled him gently down to lie beside him.

Spock, like many of the Warriors was wearing a long cloak; as he held the human in the curve of one arm, he pulled it over them both, concealing their bodies completely. Loosening the veil, he lowered his head to murmur in Kirk's ear, "If you would endeavour to simulate the movements of lovemaking, Jim, it would greatly aid the deception."

Despite the dangers of their situation, Kirk chuckled as he obeyed - he had never thought that one day he would lie in his first officer's arms, giving a public, though feigned, display of lovemaking. His amusement faded however, as he sensed an almost imperceptible trembling in Spock's body, and remembered that the Vulcan was, in fact, drawn to him. This must be torture for Spock, he thought compassionately - to be so close to what he desires, yet unable to take it. He marvelled at the Vulcan's control - pressed so close he would have been able to detect any trace of sexual arousal, yet though his breathing came harshly, Spock held himself firmly in check, even when he moved on top of Kirk as though taking him.

Kirk had no such control. The feel of the warm body in his arms, the soft lips that glided passionlessly across his face, kindled an itchy warmth in his groin, and he realized with dismay that he was becoming aroused. He had to do something quickly or Spock would find out... and, knowing him, he would blame himself for that, too. Throwing his head back, Kirk sobbed and moaned as though in release, and Spock rolled off him at once, panting heavily. Instinctively, Kirk raised his hands to cradle Spock's head to his chest, and the feel of the soft, silky hair gliding through his fingers excited him strangely.

At last, Spock moved to sit up, and Kirk saw that, while many of the Warriors were still busily engaged, several couples were stumbling into the darkness toward their tents. Spock helped him to his feet, then still keeping him within the concealing folds of the cloak, led him away from the fire.

Once inside the tent, Spock released Kirk and turned away. "I will go and bathe," he said stiffly. "Get some rest, Jim."

Shortly afterwards, Sevor came in, bringing two goblets of heated wine. Kirk did not particularly care for it, but drank it at Spock's insistence that it would warm him against the chill of the night.

On this occasion Sevor tripped, spilling one of the goblets. Seeing the slave's consternation, Kirk smiled reassuringly.

"Don't worry, Sevor, it's all right. I'll share the master's."

Sevor shook his head violently 'No' and pantomimed that he would fetch another goblet; Kirk's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Why must I drink that wine and no other? What have you done to it?"

The slave hesitated, then reached for his slate. "On the master's orders, your wine is drugged to make you sleep, that is all," he wrote. "He dreams and calls out in his sleep - he does not wish you disturbed."

"I see." Kirk thought for a moment. "Say nothing of this. I will pretend that I have drunk the wine. You will not be punished, but I must know what is wrong - perhaps I can help him." Sevor searched Kirk's face anxiously, then nodded and left. Kirk lay down on the couch, feigning sleep.

Spock came in quietly some fifteen minutes later. Kirk heard him moving about the tent, the chink of metal and the soft brush of leather as he undressed. Though his eyes were closed, he knew exactly when Spock leaned over him, and in confirmation, felt warm breath fan his face; gentle fingers brushed his cheek in a caress so light he was scarcely certain he felt it. Then the tall figure moved away, the lamps were dimmed, and he heard the Vulcan stretch out on the bed.

An hour passed, perhaps more, before Kirk heard the faint moan from the bed; he hurried across to kneel beside the sleeping Vulcan, moving a lamp so that he could see clearly. The veil, worn even for sleep, had become dislodged by Spock's movements as he tossed fitfully, and the anguish in his face moved Kirk deeply.

Unable to bear his friend's pain, Kirk whispered hesitantly, "Spock?" As though his voice had been the trigger, the Vulcan's indistinguishable murmurs formed into words.

"Jim... yes... in my dreams he comes to me... So beautiful... so loved... yet I must not touch, I must not speak. He is my life... I think he possesses my soul. All is darkness without him. But the dreams... the beautiful, forbidden dreams... Then he is mine and I speak my love without shame. I cannot escape him; I fled and he followed, even here... They sold him like an animal, but he will not be touched... I can spare him that. Oh, Jim, give me your love... No, I must not speak of it, must not even think of it, lest he suspect... "

"Why not, Spock?" Kirk asked gently. "Why can't you speak?"

His voice broke into the Vulcan's dream without waking him, and the dark head turned from side to side on the pillow.

"He is not far me. If he knew, he would despise me, perhaps fear me... "

"No, Spock. He cares for you."

"He... must not. If he cares for me, he might came to me out of pity. Better to die than use him so... and I could not endure his pity."

The low murmurings resumed and Kirk sat back on his heels, considering Spock's words carefully. It's true, he thought. If Spock had gone into pon farr, and needed me, I'd have gone to him - but for the wrong reasons. The noble James Kirk, sacrificing himself to save hie friend - and if he'd read that in my mind it would have destroyed him. Oh, he'd have lived - but he wouldn't be the Spock I know and... love.

For a moment, that thought left him openmouthed with astonishment, for he did love Spock. Over the years, the Vulcan had become friend, Brother, companion... and now Kirk knew he wanted him as lover. Mind, heart and body had been conquered; the loyal, respected subordinate had become the friend, valued and loved. Now, unexpectedly, Kirk had come to the final step: to realize that physical love, too, could be his - if he had the courage to reach for it, for, awake, Spock would neither ask for or offer anything more.

For a little longer, he knelt, testing his conviction, for only his own absolute certainty that this was what he desired would persuade Spock. Then slowly, carefully, he lowered his head and touched his mouth to Spock's.

The warm lips were surprisingly soft under his, and he rested there for a moment before reluctantly pulling away. The dark eyes opened, filled with wonder., and Spock raised a shaking hand to his mouth.

"Jim... why... you... you kissed me..."

"Yes," Kirk said simply.

Spock lowered his eyes. "You should not... you do not know... "

"I do know. I know why you ran away from me, why you tried to hide from me when I found you, and why you want to send me back alone. Spock, you can stop pretending - I know you love me."

I tried... to hide it - "

"Too successfully." Kirk reached out to pull the dark head against his shoulder, luxuriating in the feel of the silky hair under his cheek. "I had to find out the hard way... I love you, too."

"It is not possible," Spock whispered.

"Isn't it?" Kirk managed a wry grin. "Why is it, do you think, that since you ran away I've thought of nothing but you? I've known worry, grief, fear, joy... and all for you. Don't you know that since I lost you I've been almost out of my mind? I won't risk losing you again... Spock, will you take me as bondmate?" The certainty in his voice was unmistakable.

"Bondmate?" the Vulcan breathed incredulously. "I would not have dared to ask... so much."

"I would," Kirk said arrogantly. "I don't want you only as a lover - I want you to be totally mine, as I will be yours. No reservations, Spock, this has to be a total commitment - for both of us."

"I know... but it has always been that for me, Jim. T'Pring... I couldn't tell you... she challenged because of you, and named you her champion to be avenged on me. She knew what you meant to me. The fault was mine... I wronged her."

"And you've loved me all this time?" Kirk asked.

"Yes, but I dared not tell you so."

Kirk smiled. "We have a lot to make up for," he whispered, then leaning down, he kissed the Vulcan's lips again.

Spock sighed, giving himself into the human's embrace.

For a time, they simply clung together, asking no more than the realization that they had found one another at last; then Kirk, the more inpatient of the two, pressed Spock back onto the bed and lay leaning over him, his mouth exploring the intriguing contours of the Vulcan's face. He traced Spock's lips, teasing them apart to admit his tongue into the Vulcan's mouth. He probed avidly, shuddering with delight as he captured and sucked on his lover's tongue, savouring the unique taste that was Spock. His hands held the dark head firmly, a willing prisoner of his need; the Vulcan's slim fingers touched his face, and with the clarity of crystal, their minds flowed together.

I did not know... it would be like this. There will be more, Kirk promised. Spock, will you bond us?

As we mate, linked in body and mind, the bond will form. Jim, before it is too late... are you sure?

It's already too late, Kirk assured him. Is there any ritual I should follow?

Only when - if - we choose to declare the bonding formally. The creation of the bond is for us alone to do, and needs no witnesses. Jim, since we are both male, we must each be willing to submit to the other, neither seeking to be master. Do you consent?

Yes. Kirk's thought was expectant.

Then... teach me, Jim. Spock's eyes dropped shyly before his. I do not know how to please you.

Kirk laughed in delight and bent his head again. Spock's robe hindered his exploring hands, and he pulled it away, baring the full length of the slender, elegant body. His eyes began to glow with hunger as he investigated its mystery, lingering for a time over some intriguing response before seeking other delights.

Spock writhed beneath him, caught in a whirlpool of sensation he could not have imagined, gasping with shock as his nerves vibrated to the human's touch; it seemed impossible that his body, until now his obedient servant, should so willingly yield to the control of another.

Kirk's caresses grew bolder, more assured, more intimate as he gained in confidence, and he whimpered with pleasure when Spock's hands began to move, copying his actions so that each mirrored the caresses of the other in a dual ecstasy.

Such intensity of sensation could not be prolonged indefinitely; Kirk rolled onto his back, pulled Spock between his widespread legs, and smiled encouragingly. Spock's face grew still, resolute, and for a moment they gazed deeply into each other's eyes as they made their final, silent commitment. In this one moment, they set their previous relationship behind them forever. No longer would they be Kirk and Spock, Human and Vulcan, captain and first officer, but a unique and beautiful blending of both.

Spock's head bowed and he brushed his mouth to Kirk's with gentle reverence; then slowly, with careful precision, he sheathed himself in the human's body.

Kirk moaned aloud as the exquisite, unendurable pleasure filled his mind and body; he belonged fully to another person, and that person was absolutely his. He arched upwards, giving himself, claiming Spock, and all thought vanished as the exciting friction within his body goaded him to frenzy.

Spock's mind fastened on his, reflecting back their joint sensations; past and future dissolved into insignificance, leaving only the blazing wonder of the present, of their mutual joy and he screamed Spock's name as the hot liquid filled him, flooded him, erasing forever the solitary man he had been.

There was no respite, for the half-formed bond chafed their minds, demanding completion, driving them together again even as Spock withdrew from Kirk's body. The human groaned, clutching at his lover, impatiently urging him into position, Spock as avid as he to reclaim the sense of complete unity. The dark eyes were glowing, alight with a feral hunger that matched Kirk's as they came eagerly together.

Holding himself in check by a supreme effort of will, Kirk kissed the Vulcan's trembling lips in a gesture of tender affection. The demands of his body overwhelmed him then, and he plunged into Spock with one swift, relentless stroke.

For a moment, ashamed, he sensed pain in the Vulcan's mind, but the eagerly writhing body conveyed its own reassurance. Kirk began to thrust steadily, powerfully, into the hot yielding flesh, triumph singing in his mind as he conjured ecstatic response from his lover. In all ways, this was Spock's first time, and he wanted to make it good for him, to make it last, and, a little, he enjoyed the power he had newly discovered to turn his ice-cool Vulcan into his willing slave.

At the moment of orgasm, he felt Spock's mind lock firmly onto his, penetrating deeper than it had ever done before, seeking and finding the essence of his being. At the same time, Spock was totally open to him, and he ran laughing through the cool, ordered mind, filling the sterile empty places with warmth and joy.

"Oh, Jim!" Powerful arms closed around him, hugging him fiercely, protectively.

"Was it good for you, Spock?" Kirk murmured, needing at that moment the small human ordinariness of speech.

"I did not know... I could not know... " Words deserted Spock and his mind spoke for him, showing Kirk his awe and delight at the depth of their love. "I can feel you... here." Spock touched his forehead wonderingly. "To have you always so close... I can no longer hide from you, Jim; you have set me free..,. to love... " With a sob, he buried his face against Kirk's neck.

The human held the quivering body gently, comfortingly; even he, the experienced lover, had been shaken to the depths of his soul by the intensity of the love they shared - how much more devastating it must have been for Spock! Carefully, he settled the dark head on his shoulder, and kissed the delicate eyelids. "Sleep, love," he murmured. "Sleep with me."

  
***

  
A soft rustle of movement in the tent woke Kirk the next morning. He lay with closed eyes, aware that he was lying naked in Spock's arms, that Sevor was, as usual, setting out their breakfast... but he was with his love, and unashamed. A smile curved his lips as a voice murmured in his ear. "It's all right, Jim - he's gone." Blinking sleepily, he gazed up at Spock's face; the veil was back in place, but over it the dark eyes surveyed him adoringly.

"This," Kirk remarked as he pulled the veil down, "is going to be a nuisance." His words were muffled then as Spock took his mouth.

When the Vulcan released him at last, he sat up, the movement dislodging a light cover that had been thrown over his naked body; he flashed a challenging glance at Spock, and the Vulcan coloured. "A Warrior does not customarily expose his lorath to the gaze of inferiors - and yes, I am jealous of anyone who looks at you," he confessed, smiling at Kirk's amused chuckle. "Come and eat," he continued. "I must meet with the Warriors again this morning."

Over breakfast, Kirk glanced curiously around the tent. "All this..." he said, indicating the rich hangings that decorated the tent, the fur rugs, goblets and plates of precious metal. "Surely it's a bit unusual for nomadic warriors?"

"Not so." Spock handed him a dish of fruit. "The Warriors are not mercenaries in the Earth sense; they do not fight for money. When their protection is given to a merchant, say, or their services are requested, a valuable gift is the usual recompense. If two Warriors duel, the survivor takes the belongings of the other, but wealth is not highly regarded for its own sake - a valuable possession can be given away lightly, and even a valued slave can be lost in a wager." Kirk looked at him indignantly, and the Vulcan smiled. "You are in no danger," he said tenderly; and at his expression, Kirk knelt up on the couch, leaned over his lover, and pressed his lips to Spock's.

The Vulcan disengaged himself slowly, held Kirk at arm's length, and looked into his eyes. "Jim, I sense... apprehension in your mind. Will you tell me? You must know that I will never force your confidence."

"Well... " Kirk shifted so he could lean against Spock, and felt his companion's arm encircle his shoulders. "Two things; the bond... you didn't cheat me, Spock? It is a full bonding?"

"It is. You are sensitive enough... perhaps I should not have taken you so completely, but I could not resist... We will share life - and death."

"Thank god!" Kirk sighed as he settled closer. "I was afraid that you might try to protect me. I'm selfish enough to fear death without you, Spock... and if you'd left me behind... " He shuddered, the desolation of a life without Spock filling his mind with dread.

"We will be together," Spock promised as he brushed Kirk's hair with his lips. "And your second question?"

"Not a question - a confession. I'm afraid of... of pon farr."

"I had forgotten." The arm around his shoulders tightened. "You are afraid - yet still you came to me... Jim, the male cycle is triggered by the female's - when the woman is fertile, the male is compelled to mate; the bond ensures that pon farr is not indiscriminate, but locked to the cycle of the chosen mate. Since you are male, you will not enter a fertile period, and so you will not trigger pon farr in me."

"Or looked at another way," Kirk teased, "since I'm always... available, you'll always be able to mate with me."

"You find that prospect exciting, I see." Spock rose reluctantly. "Tonight you will find out just how capable the Vulcan male is. Now I must dress - they will be waiting for me."

"Let me help you." Kirk reached for Spock's clothes. "I want to show you how well I absorbed my training as a lorath."

When Spock was finally dressed, Kirk loosened the veil for a moment to plant a warm kiss on his lips.

"That will have to do until tonight," he said a trifle breathlessly.

"It will only make me more anxious to return, Jim." Spock's voice grew serious. "Do not leave the tent unless Sevor is with you - and wear your riding clothes if you do. I saw the way some of the Warriors looked at you last night... I cannot keep you totally secluded, but it will be safer if they see you only in my presence."

"I understand. You'd better go now, Spock the Warriors are going into the Leader's tent."

  
***

  
The conference lasted the better part of the day, and Kirk was thoroughly bored by the time Spock returned. He had ventured out only once to bathe in the pool, but the attention he had attracted from the Warriors' loraths and work slaves quickly sent him back into hiding.

He jumped up eagerly when Spock came in, and the Vulcan smiled wryly at his welcome. "I fear we will not have the evening entirely to ourselves, Jim. Some of the Warriors are going hunting, but the Leader has invited himself and some of the others to dinner here. I could not refuse."

"I suppose not," Kirk sighed. "Do I serve them all?"

"No, they will bring their own loraths. Last night's... incident... will not be repeated; it would be an invasion of privacy - and besides, the Leader wants to discuss the geography of the area. Fortunately, I am familiar with it."

As Spock had promised, the dinner passed smoothly. Kirk played his part as the submissive, attentive slave, aware that Spock was envied for possessing him. When he knelt to serve wine, Spock's mind touched his, and the contrast between the lordly attitude the Vulcan displayed and the tender mental caress with which he thanked Kirk excited the human with its promise of the night to come.

After dinner, the conversation turned to the war party; the other loraths were dismissed, so that Kirk was the only slave present when the Leader said, "One of the maps is still in my tent - will you permit your slave to fetch it, Brother?" At Spock's nod of assent, Kirk was given instructions on how to find the map, then hurried off to fetch it, reflecting how inconvenient it was that the Warriors never used personal names, but addressed each other simply as 'Brother'.

He found the map without difficulty, and was turning to leave when a Warrior came in - by his dress, Kirk thought he was the man who had offered to buy him the previous night.

"So - our new Brother's exotic little pet. What are you doing here, slave?"

"I was sent to fetch a map, lord. They will be waiting."

"Let them wait!" The Warrior stepped closer and gripped Kirk's chin, tilting his face up. "It is inconsiderate of your master to keep you to himself. Kiss me, slave:"

"No!" In a panic, Kirk jerked away, and the Warrior reached for him again, tearing his tunic. "You would refuse me? You will be punished for that!"

To his horror, Kirk was pushed to the floor and the heavy body crushed down on him; desperately, he turned his head aside, seeking to avoid the lips which sought his.

The Vulcan laughed. "What is a kiss when you have other pleasures to give?" He brought his knee down sharply, forcing Kirk's legs apart, and began to unbuckle his belt. Kirk fought with all his strength, humiliated by the knowledge that the Vulcan was only playing with him; then the eyes above the veil grew hard. "Now!"

The Warrior spread-eagled Kirk effortlessly, leaning over him. Kirk closed his eyes, waiting fearfully for the violation, when suddenly the heavy weight was gone and a cold, deadly voice rang through the tent.

"You have all witnessed - he attempted to rape my slave. I demand the right of challenge." Looking up, Kirk saw Spock standing over his sprawled assailant; the Leader, with several of his Warriors, crowded into the tent.

"You jest, Brother," the Warrior said confidently. "No man challenges for a more slave."

"I do." Spock raised his head arrogantly. "He is mine, and I will not have him touched without my permission."

Realizing that Spock was in earnest, the Vulcan turned in supplication. "Leader, forbid:"

"I cannot." The Leader shook his head. "It is his right - without his consent, you laid hands upon his lorath. The challenge is acceptable."

"Then I accept." The Warrior rose. "Dawn tomorrow, Brother. I will slay you - and couple with your precious slave before your eyes close in death." Staring defiantly at Spock, he stalked out. Spock moved to kneel beside Kirk, touching his face lightly. /Did he hunt you?/

/No - you were in time./

Spock rose, Kirk in his arms. "Forgive me, Brother. My slave is not yet accustomed to our ways, and is easily frightened. Will you preside over the challenge?"

"With pride. Until dawn, Brother."

***

  
There was no sleep for either Kirk or Spock that night. The human blamed himself bitterly for Spock's danger, but the Vulcan soothed him.

"I should not have let you leave the tent alone," he said. "On this world, your beauty is so unusual that any man would be tempted."

They were lying, satisfied and content, in each other's arms when Kirk found the courage to ask, "Spock, if he defeats you... "

"If he defeats me, you will die, too," Spock promised. "The bond will insure that. And... if he keeps his promise to give me a slow death so that he can take you before my eyes... I will use the link between us to drive your mind from your body, hold it safe in mine, until death takes me."

"Thank you.,"'Kirk whispered. "I'm not afraid of death - not with you. But rape... Spock, I felt sick when he touched me."

"Another aspect of the bond," Spock explained. "Neither of us could endure the caress of another now."

There was a long, companionable silence while they lay, clinging together, then Kirk stirred uneasily.

"Spock... if you kill him... you could alter the future."

"Not significantly." Spock sat up, hugging his knees, suddenly the alert science officer explaining a point of interest. "I have done some research since we first encountered the Guardian. It seems that the removal of an unimportant - historically speaking - person from the past makes little difference - time adjusts itself, and heals over the gap. You remember Captain Christopher - only his genetic contribution made it necessary for us to return him."

"Perhaps the Warrior has a genetic contribution, too," Kirk suggested.

Spock shook his head. "No. Those who desire to become Warriors must first marry and produce two children - only then may they 'take the veil'.

They then renounce all ties of kindred - the children are raised by the mother, who is then a widow and free to remarry. A Warrior is, by custom, permitted to mate only with males thereafter, so no further children can be sired. The Warrior I battled when I entered this past, and the one I must do battle with tomorrow, have already produced their children.

"Historically, they are minor characters, and will not be missed; whereas I dare not challenge the Leader, who, because of his position, may be known to history."

"Spock..." Kirk's hand moved caressingly. "Be careful tomorrow... I want to live."

  
***

  
The following morning, Kirk stood with Sevor at the edge of the battleground, watching anxiously as the two veiled Warriors waited for the signal to begin. His eyes widened as he saw the other Vulcan's lorath, armed with a sword, standing at his master's side.

Turning to the Warrior next to him, Kirk asked urgently, "Lord, is that permitted?"

"It is. The slave may not kill the Warrior, but his presence will distract your master, thus giving an advantage to his opponent."

Kirk looked around frantically; Spock could probably defeat his adversary, but if the slave distracted him at a critical moment... Impulsively, he ran forward and knelt before the Leader. "Lord, I ask permission to fight at my master's side."

"I do not advise it - you are untrained, and I do not think you have the strength."

"I have, lord."

The Leader eyed him curiously, almost compassionately. "Very well. Here, take my sword. Since you may not understand the custom, now that both sides are evenly matched, you may only fight the slave at first. If you defeat him, you may then attempt to distract your master's adversary, but you may not kill either master or slave - " There was surprised approval in the Leader's eyes.

"You have courage, whatever you are," he murmured. "The lorath has been trained to the sword - you could be severely injured."

"I'll take that chance," Kirk declared firmly as he ran to join Spock.

Taking his place at his lover's side, Kirk felt a glow of pleasure at the mental welcome he received; but almost at once, the Leader gave the signal to begin. For a time, he was too occupied in defending himself to see what was happening between the Warriors - the Vulcan slave had experience and strength, but Kirk's speed and swift reflexes saved him. He soon became aware that the Vulcan was fighting mechanically, without any enthusiasm, whereas Kirk's fear for Spock gave him the edge. He counter-attacked unexpectedly, sending the slave's sword spinning from his hand. The youth closed his eyes and knelt in surrender.

Dropping his sword, Kirk turned to watch the more important duel, Spock's command to keep away echoing in his mind. Spock had lost his shield, and was bleeding heavily from a cut across his forehead. The blood dripping into his eyes blinded him and he stumbled; the Warrior, seeing his chance, leaped to the attack with his sword raised high. Spock brought his own up to deflect the thrust, but the blade shattered. Kirk caught his breath, seeing the Warrior brace himself for the finishing stroke; he was halted by a sharp command from the Leader, and with an oath, threw his sword aside. The code - Kirk had forgotten it - demanded that duelling Warriors be equally armed - the fight would continue with bare hands.

Spock had used the respite to wipe the blood from his eyes; he threw a quick glance to the side, and caught sight of Kirk's white, expressive face. The thought of the danger to his bondmate destroyed the last vestiges of control, and he became, in fact, what he already seemed - a savage Warrior of ancient Vulcan, defending his mate with jealous, possessive fury.

In hand-to-hand combat, Spock proved immeasurably the superior, combining natural Vulcan strength with Starfleet training. His opponent's eyes shadowed with the foreknowledge of his death, and when Spock's hands fastened on his neck, he ceased all resistance.

There was no mercy left in Spock. This - creature - had dared to touch Kirk and must now be punished; his hands moved swiftly, there was a clearly audible snap of bone, and the Warrior's head lolled limply.

Casting the body contemptuously aside, Spock strode forward, gathered Kirk into the curve of a possessive arm and stared around arrogantly. His victory was heralded by the Warriors striking their swords on their shields in approval, and in acknowledgement that the fight had been fairly won.

Kirk found himself weak with reaction, and was grateful for the support of Spock's arm. He was half-frightened by the jealousy that overwhelmed him when the Warrior's lorath - whom he now saw to be a handsome youth - came to kneel submissively before Spock, acknowledging his new master.

/Your jealousy pleases me,/ came Spock's loving thought. /I must accept him or slay him, but it is not required that I keep him./

With his free hand, Spock raised the youth and led him over to the Leader. "Brother, will you accept this gift? You would do me a service - it is truly said that two loraths in one tent lead to discord."

"I accept with thanks, Brother. I am, at present, without a bed slave, and this one is loyal and brave. Go to my tent, boy, and wait for me. A word with you, Brother."

He moved aside and Spock followed without releasing Kirk. Seeing this, the Leader laughed understandingly, then his eyes grew serious. "Brother," the Leader said, "it occurs to me - to keep this slave as a mere lorath is wasteful."

"You echo my thoughts, Brother," Spock replied. "I wish to train him as a Companion at least."

"He may rise even higher - I would judge him fit to take the veil. Will you permit me to test him?"

"I would be honored."

"Begin then, Brother. Before the end of the Gathering, we may welcome a new Warrior to our band."

Spock inclined his head and led Kirk back to their tent. In its dim seclusion, the human pressed himself close to his lover.

"Hold me... Just hold me," he murmured.

  
***

  
Hours later, Kirk raised his head to gaze down at Spock's relaxed face. "It gets better each time," he said wonderingly.

"It will continue to do so as the bond grows firmer and we learn more of one another," Spock assured him. Sitting up, he reached for the tray of food Sevor had brought some time previously. "You must eat," he urged.

As he ate, Kirk remembered the Leader's remarks after the fight, and asked, "What was all that - about a Companion?"

"Your courage impressed the Leader, Jim. Sometimes, a brave and loyal slave is freed and trained in the use of weapons. If he is judged sufficiently skilled, his former master takes him as Companion, acknowledging him as his chosen mate. It is an honored position - and one further test, the slaying of a le-matya, entitles the Companion to be raised to Warrior status - to 'take the veil'."

"Could I do that?" Kirk asked.

"I believe so. I think it is important that you try - as a Companion you are a free man, and cannot be enslaved again, or forced by any of the Warriors should anything happen to me. And, if we declare ourselves as mates, we will be given some time alone - perhaps the only opportunity we will have to escape the war party."

"What is the test the Leader offered to conduct?"

"You must fight him - no, not to the death," Spock hastily added. "He will almost certainly defeat you, but if you prove yourself a worthy opponent, you will be freed."

"When can I start?"

Spock's hand rose to caress Kirk's thigh. "I think... the morning will be soon enough," he murmured.

"Too soon." Kirk lowered his head to his lover's eager mouth.

***

Kirk's training aroused considerable interest among the Warriors who came to watch him at practice. He sensed a change in their attitude - no longer did they regard him as Spock's exotic, beautiful, not-quite-Vulcan pet, but as a possible equal. Their comments were not speculations on his sexual accomplishments now, but considered, experienced advice on his fighting skills.

Spock was a hard taskmaster, bullying Kirk lovingly into feats of endurance he had not thought possible. To compensate for his lack of Vulcan strength, Spock had weapons especially made for him - a sword and shield he could handle easily, spears which he quickly learned to use, and a lightweight lirpa which gave him some difficulty at first. With the bow he was no novice, and regular practice raised his skill to a level he had never thought to attain. Like Spock, he held his own in hand-to-hand combat; where his Starfleet training allied to his natural agility, in fact, gave him an advantage. Indeed, after two weeks, he was fitter, stronger, more alert than he had ever been in his life.

At last, Spock declared that he was ready to be tested. "There is nothing to fear," he soothed the nervous, anxious human as he helped him to dress. "If you fail, you will simply be returned to me as lorath - the Leader has no right to claim my property unless he defeats me. He'll test you to the utmost - but he won't hurt you."

"I know," Kirk replied, "but I want to succeed - I want to prove myself worthy of you."

"You already are," the Vulcan replied tenderly. "This is not your world, and you need feel no shame if you cannot adapt to it. In our own time, you are my captain - and I love you as you are."

At the entrance to the tent Kirk paused and clung to Spock, lifting his mouth to be kissed. "Wish me luck?"

"Good luck, Jim." Both were remembering the bitter remorse of a man who had spoken those words too late. "Whatever happens - I love you, and I am proud of you."

  
***

  
The whole war party had gathered to watch the test; Warriors, loraths and work slaves alike. Somehow, Kirk had the feeling that they wanted him to succeed, and he lifted his head proudly as he stepped into the arena to face the Leader.

The trial of strength had been dispensed with, for it was evident that Kirk could not outmatch a Vulcan. The first test, therefore, was of his archery, and he found the Leader a formidable opponent. First one drew ahead, then the other, and the Leader congratulated him when, at the and of the trial honours, they were even.

Hand-to-hand combat came next; it was a long, difficult battle, with the Vulcan gaining the first fall, Kirk the second. Then, for a time, it seemed stalemate, for neither could gain the advantage, until Kirk, evading a lunge by his opponent, saw an opening and sent the Leader crashing to the hardbaked earth where he lay stunned.

Kirk had not really expected to succeed, and watched apprehensively as the Vulcan climbed slowly to his feet, shaking his head to clear it. However, to his relief, the Leader roared with laughter and hugged him impulsively.

"Well done, little one! Not many have thrown me!"

There was a break to allow both to rest and recover for the armed combat which would be the final test. Kirk spent the time lying in Spock's arms in the seclusion of the tent, gathering strength and confidence from the loving tenderness which surrounded him.

Too soon, it was time to return to the arena. Kirk wiped the sweat from his face and tried to ignore the dry, suffocating heat - no McCoy with his tri-ox compound this time!

The first bout was with the lirpa, their blades guarded as this was not to be to the death. His ribs were aching, though, from the blows of the club by the time the Leader called a halt and declared himself satisfied.

The final test was with the sword, and Kirk could not guess how well he had done - everything depended on this. He took his sword and shield from Spock, flashed a reassuring smile at his lover, and returned to the center of the arena.

Kirk fought well, defending himself vigorously against the Leader's onslaught; for a brief period, he even counter-attacked, his speed confusing the Vulcan. It could not last, however, as the long, strenuous day and the blazing heat took their toll an the more fragile human body. His shield arm trembled, his sword was an ever-increasing weight, and he gasped painfully for breath.

The Leader returned to the attack, and Kirk raised his shield wearily... and too slowly. The Vulcan's blade turned on the rim of the shield, and sliced a shallow cut the length of his forearm. Kirk blinked ignorantly at the welling blood, miserably aware that he had lost.

To his astonishment, the Leader at once sheathed his sword and turned to face the watching Warriors.

"Our Brother has a most worthy Companion!" he roared. "What say you?"

As before, the Warriors signalled their approval by striking their shields with their swords. "Even I would face him with caution," the Second Leader called as the others shouted enthusiastic agreement.

Kirk closed his eyes in relief, felt a strong, supportive arm encircle his shoulders, and relaxed gratefully against Spock's strength.

"You are hurt!" The Vulcan lifted Kirk's arm, examining the bleeding cut.

"It's not serious - only a scratch," Kirk smiled.

"And unintentional." The Leader came forward and cautiously touched the blood that dripped from Kirk's arm. "His blood is redder than the sands of Vulcan - truly, your Companion is stranger than we knew. Is it your intention now to pledge yourself to him?"

"It is." Spock began to lead Kirk away. "First, however, I must tend his injury."

  
***

  
Sevor was waiting in the tent with warm water and bandages; Spock dismissed him, then carefully cleaned away the blood, examined the wound, and bound it firmly.

"It is a clean cut and shallow," he announced with relief. "It should heal cleanly."

Taking Kirk's uninjured hand, he pulled the human to his feet. "Before you are seen again, I have a duty to perform." Reaching for Kirk's neck, he unfastened and removed the slave collar, casting it aside with an exclamation of disgust. He frowned in annoyance as he saw the red welt where the metal had rubbed Kirk's throat.

"That will fade," Kirk said gently, understanding Spock's expression. Reaching up, he loosened the crimson veil..."Why don't you... kiss it better?" he murmured.

"Illogical." Nevertheless, Spock pressed his lips to the bruised flesh, and heard, with delight, Kirk's ripple of laughter.

"I never thought I'd hear you say that again when Segon had me," the human explained as Spock raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Then his eyes narrowed as he gazed hungrily at the Vulcan's mouth.. They were locked together in a passionate embrace, Kirk's hand reaching for the fastening of Spock's clothes, when a low cough made them draw apart. Sevor was standing just inside the tent, his eyes discreetly lowered.

He pantomimed that the Leader was waiting outside the tent, requesting permission to enter. "Admit him," Spock ordered, releasing Kirk reluctantly.

"Your pardon, Brother - and greetings, Kirk." The human smiled, as for the first time, the Leader acknowledged him as a free man. "Scouts report le-matya tracks only a short distance from here, and it has occurred to me - if you were to postpone the Avowal for a few hours, it is rare that veiled Warriors take oath together."

/Spock, let me!/ Kirk pleaded, cutting through the Vulcan's worried,

/It is dangerous./

/Not with you to organize things,/ the human urged. /I'd like to... to prove that I can do it - to take the oath as your equal./

"Very well," Spock said quietly, answering both Kirk and the Leader. "It is fitting."

***

The hunt, to Spock's vast relief, went off smoothly. Kirk was sufficiently skilled at tracking to follow the le-matya to its lair, a narrow cave in a rocky outcropping some miles from the camp. Two of the Warriors worked their way to the mouth of the cave, and from concealment, hurled smouldering branches inside to smoke the creature out while Kirk positioned himself ready to meet its attack.

There was a loud, vicious snarling, then a scream of rage; the le-matya erupted from the cave and crouched, tail lashing furiously as it glared around in search of whatever had disturbed its rest. Cold fear clutched at Spock's heart as it caught sight of Kirk and gathered itself to attack - the human looked very lonely and vulnerable, but he stood confidently, readying his weapons.

With a final scream, the le-matya sprang, and Kirk hurled his first spear; the animal twisted in mid-air, and what should have been a fatal strike only tore along its side. It crouched, gathering strength, then charged again. Kirk had taken advantage of the respite to wedge his second spear into the ground, bracing himself to receive the attack.

Spock moved apprehensively - Kirk was too slight to take the animal's weight - but it was already too late to interfere - the le-matya was already moving, ignoring the spear in its frenzy to reach the one who had hurt it; the spear penetrated its chest and tore deeper, the animal's own weight and impetus forcing it deeper still.

Dying, the le-matya was still dangerous; its hate-filled eyes fixed on Kirk in a burning lust to kill, it worked its way along the - spear, squealing in pain, vicious claws slashing at the human's body.

Kirk waited calmly, then just as it seemed he would be savagely torn, he dropped the spear and sprang lightly to the side, drawing his knife as he moved. Another leap took him astride the le-matya's back, the knife rose and fell, and the snarling horror choked and died, its spinal column severed.

Spock was first on the scene as Kirk climbed shakily doom, snatching his beloved into his arms and examining him carefully - the smallest scratch from the le-matya's claws could be fatal. There was no sign of injury, and Spock released him as the hunting party gathered around, calling congratulations on Kirk's skill.

"Come, Brothers," the Leader said at last. "We have an Avowal to witness."

  
***

  
The fire blazed high as Spock stood before the Leader, awaiting the arrival of his mate. Two lines of Warriors, dressed in their richest clothes, lined the path that led from the fire to the tent where Kirk, aided by Sevor, was dressing for the ceremony.

The tent flap was raised, a war-cry rose in greeting from the Warriors, and a slim figure emerged from the tent to walk steadily between the ranks.

Spock had eyes for nothing else. Kirk, dressed as a Warrior, bareheaded, the firelight gleaming on his hair, his face concealed by the crimson veil, was coming to join him with Vulcan's oldest and most honored form of bonding - the pathtaking of mated Warriors.

Kirk reached Spock's side, turned and faced him. They drew their swords, holding the points to each other's throats, then Spock raised his and turned it so that Kirk could press his lips to the flat of the blade. Kirk lifted his sword in turn, and Spock kissed it, then placed his arm around Kirk's waist and held his sword in front of him defensively.

"I claim my mate, and I will protect him," he declared firmly.

Again, Kirk repeated the gestures and the challenge, and the first part of the ceremony was complete, symbolizing that neither need fear the weapons of the other for they would never be raised against him, and that each was prepared to defend his mate with his life. Then, sheathing their sword, they stood face to face once more.

Two Warriors came forward and removed their cloaks; beneath them, both were naked to the waist. The Leader stepped between them, a knife in his hand, and made a shallow cut across Spock's chest, reaching from nipple to nipple. Kirk lowered his head and set his lips to the wound, sucking gently, shuddering with pleasure as Spock's blood filled his mouth. He straightened reluctantly and replaced his veil, then stood, unflinching, as the knife slashed across his chest, but he trembled at the feel of Spock's warm lips on his flesh, and his hand rose, pressing the dark head closer.

He felt Spock swallow, then took the Vulcan in his arms, holding him close to that the two bleeding cuts pressed together, allowing their blood to mingle. He could hear Spock whispering in his ear, vowing life-long love and protection, while at the same time, the link etched the same promises deep in his mind.

Kirk moved slightly, murmuring the same vows to Spock; he felt the bond draw tighter, settling deeper into his brain, and at last, he understood why it was impossible to survive the death of a bondmate - a tie so deep, so much a part of himself, could not be broken.without utterly destroying him, for its severance would rip his mind to shreds... and he knew that it was the same for Spock.

"Brothers of the Sword, Brothers in blood. Brothers of flesh and spirit," the Leader intoned. "As mated Warriors, each is only for the other - death will came swiftly to anyone who seeks to come between them. Go now, my Brothers, seal your compact."

Kirk and Spock turned to walk, with clasped hand, between the ranks of Warriors to their tent; outside, the feasting and celebration would continue all night, but within a warm haven of love, passion and tenderness awaited them.

  
***

  
The following morning, the Leader sought permission to enter. Kirk was still in bed, and Spock made sure he was adequately covered before nodding consent.

The Warrior waited while Sevor served wine and withdrew, then deliberately lowered his veil; acknowledging the gesture of trust, Kirk and Spock removed theirs.

"Today begins your Time of Solitude," the Leader began, "but we must soon be on the move. May I ask what direction you intend to take?"

"Towards ShiKahr," Spock replied, and the Warrior's face cleared.

"Our path leads in that direction," he said. "We will follow twelve hours behind you, and you can rejoin us with no loss of time. Do you consent?"

Kirk and Spock exchanged glances. "We consent," the Vulcan said at last, "but let none intrude an our privacy."

"I pledge my word," the Leader promised.

  
***

  
As they rode closer to ShiKahr, Kirk found himself half-eager, half-reluctant to leave this savage, beautiful world. He wanted to go home again, to have Spock at his side... but now it would be different. Or it should be, with his lover to share his life. His greatest fear was that Spock, deprived of the freedom he had known here in his own past, might once more retire behind his carefully contrived mask of logic. So, although he comforted himself with the memory of possessive lips devouring his, of the hard, demanding body thrusting into him, of his lover's passionate, abandoned response to his own lovemaking, Kirk nevertheless made careful plans before setting himself to the enjoyment of their last few days of complete freedom.

They travelled more swiftly than either would have liked. Sevor took the direct route with their belongings, setting up camp each evening, while Kirk and Spock rode alone, each content to have the other's company and undivided attention.

At night, they clung together in the warm haven of their tent, their lovemaking growing wilder and more abandoned as they gained experience, but never losing the wondering tenderness with which they had first come together.

/I won't lose this,/ Kirk vowed as he shuddered and trembled in Spock's arms. /I won't!/

One evening, they topped a low rise and surveyed the desert beyond. Behind them, Sevor was making camp; before them, the landscape was familiar.

"It was here, Jim," Spock said, a note of sadness in his voice.

"Down there." Kirk pointed. "My communicator is hidden among those rocks."

"Jim - can I go back?" Spock asked suddenly. "I - I deserted... "

"You were ill - McCoy can confirm that. And, don't forget, time passes differently - these weeks we've spent in the past will have been only a few hours for the Enterprise. Anyway, if it comes to that, I deserted, too. No, Spock, we can both go home."

"Home," the Vulcan murmured, and the bond told Kirk that his lover, too, shared his reluctant eagerness.

  
***

  
Later that night, Kirk stirred in Spock's arms and frowned.

"What troubles you?" Warm lips brushed his forehead.

"I was thinking... if we simply step through the Guardian and vanish, we'll leave a mystery in the past. And Sevor... the war party is only a few hours behind us ... Sevor could be blamed for our disappearance. I don't want him hurt."

"True. But what can we do?" Spock asked. "We cannot explain."

"I have an idea. The Vulcans I've met - even the Warriors - half-believe I'm some sort of demon. Perhaps a little old-fashioned magic? There was a legend you told me of once..."

He explained and Spock smiled approvingly. "Excellent, Jim. Now I wish to practice some magic... the oldest magic of all... with you." His warm lips claimed the human's mouth, Kirk moaned his pleasure, and for the moment nothing existed outside their bed.

  
***

  
In the morning, Kirk dispatched the work slave he had inherited from the Warrior to bring the Leader to their camp. He and Kirk rose late, lingered over breakfast then, leaving instructions with Sevor as to how to find them, they rode out of the camp and over the rise to the depression where Kirk retrieved his phaser and communicator... Raising the grid, the human called, "Guardian!"

"I am here," the familiar voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere.

"I wish to return very soon."

"Call me, and I shall respond."

Tucking the communicator away, Kirk smiled. "Now we wait," he said.

***

  
Spock touched Kirk's arm, pointed, and both men rose to their feet as the Leader appeared over the rise and came down to meet them. As he had been instructed, Sevor followed.

"You explain," the Vulcan murmured.

"Greetings, Brother." The Leader dismounted and came closer. "Are you ready to rejoin the war party?"

"Greetings, Brother," Kirk replied for both, and flashed acknowledgement of Spock's thought, /His name is Seron./

"My Brother and I must leave now," Kirk continued, "and I have decided that you should know why."

"You cannot leave!" the Vulcan protested. "I will not permit - "

"We have no choice, Seron," Kirk said quietly, and the Warrior started.

"How do you know my name?"

"Because of what I am, Seron; look at me." Kirk dropped his veil. "What do you see?"

"I see a Warrior of Vulcan. True, your skin is strangely coloured, your ears oddly shaped..."

"And my blood is red, my strength less than that of a Vulcan woman," Kirk finished for him.

He replaced his veil and continued, "In childhood, Brother, did you not hear tales of a race, long vanished, who lived on Vulcan once?"

"The Herven?" Seron said slowly. "But it was never said that they looked... like you."

"As your race emerged, my people knew they could not survive - you were too strong, too savage for them. So... we used our skills to find another home when your race was in its infancy. I... I was curious to see the world we lost, but I was captured, sold into slavery... Now my people have found me, and I wish to go home. My mate..." He reached for Spock. "My mate goes with me."

Reaching under his cloak, he opened the communicator. "Guardian."

"I am here." As before, the voice echoed.

"I wish to return."

"The door is open."

The air in front of them shimmered, and the oval gateway took shape on the sand; around it the Vulcan desert stretched to the horizon, but within its frame, the dead city gleamed white.

"Your world?" Seron asked curiously.

"A gateway to it."

"Sevor, come here." In response to Spock's gesture, the slave knelt. Spock unfastened his collar. "You are free. All that is mine, I give you in payment for your services. Seron, I ask your protection for Sevor as far as ShiKahr."

"You have my word," the Leader promised, and the slave caught Spock's hand to his forehead, silently asking him to use mind-speech.

/How may I thank you?/ the mute slave stammered. /I am free...I can buy a small farm... perhaps even find a wife, a freed slave who will not mind my face... oh, master!/

"I am no longer your master." Spock disengaged his hand gently. "Do not speak of what you have seen," he cautioned both Vulcans. "The Herven guard their privacy jealously - they do not understand the Warriors' code, and their vengeance will be swift and silent."

"Come, Brother." Kirk indicated the Guardian. "Bid farewell to your world... and enter mine." Hands linked, the two stepped into the time portal, and the mist hid them from sight. It cleared, and only the desert shown within the rapidly fading oval. Within seconds, all that remained of their passing was a double line of footprints which terminated abruptly in the soft sand.

  
***

  
Kirk and Spock emerged from the Guardian amidst the now-familiar ruins; Kirk raised his communicator again.

"Kirk to Enterprise."

"Enterprise, Captain! It's grand tae hear ye, man! Are ye safe?"

"I'm fine, Scotty. Notify the transporter room; two to beam up."

"Two! Then ye've found Mister Spock?"

"I have, and I'm bringing him home. Energize!"

Seconds later, Kirk was dazedly wondering who was running the ship - the entire bridge crew seemed to have crowded into the transporter room, and were staring with open-mouthed astonishment at the two veiled Warriors who appeared in a silver shimmer.

"Jim?" McCoy asked uncertainly as he pushed forward.

Kirk laughed, unfastening his veil. "Yes, it's me - and Spock."

McCoy examined the impassive Vulcan from head to foot, then subjected Kirk to the same scrutiny. "What have you two been up to?" he demanded at last, with deep suspicion.

"Bones... " Kirk convulsed with laughter. "Bones, you'd never believe me if I told you."

***

  
Later that night, Commander Spock completed the incredible entry in his personal log and switched off the recorder. Once more in uniform, nothing remained of the Warrior - nothing save the disturbing emotions that must now be brought firmly under control.

The excitement caused by his return to the Enterprise accompanied by Kirk, and in such bizarre dress, would probably prove a nine-days wonder, he thought; McCoy, having checked them both out in Sickbay, was satisfied with their physical condition and Kirk's account of their adventure - heavily expurgated for the crew, less so for McCoy - had satisfied most of the questions which had been asked.

Yet... even with McCoy, Kirk had been less than fully honest. He had admitted that he had been sold as a pleasure slave, but he had said nothing of the physical relationship he had entered with the Vulcan.

Spock thought he knew why. A relationship that was permitted - even approved - between two Warriors was not... suitable between a starship captain and his first officer. Obviously, Kirk wanted to end the affair, and it was perhaps easiest for him not to admit that it had ever existed. Spock could help him best by not referring to it either.

He longed to touch Kirk's mind for the last time, to make a private farewell, but he dared not... his control was too poor just now, when he needed to be strong for his captain.

Only... it would be... so very difficult. It hurt... So much... to have found love only to lose it... but he had his memories...

With a sigh, Spock rose and dimmed the lights in his cabin, then seated himself before the flickering firepot in an attitude of meditation, striving for the calm control that had always been his.

 

***

  
The flame burned steadily, shedding its light as the desert fire had illuminated Kirk's face when they had made their vows. Such a gentle radiance... Kirk's body would glow in its light, as it had done beneath the lamps of the tent. It was beautiful... as Kirk was beautiful... but it could burn, scorching flesh as Kirk's passion had scorched his mind...

This was impossible! A Vulcan should not be so easily disturbed! Spock concentrated harder, fighting to achieve serenity and acceptance, so absorbed that he did not hear the door of his cabin open and close, or the soft footsteps that advanced across the room.

Strong arms closed around him and he raised his head to meet Kirk's hungry mouth; the human kissed him fiercely, passionately, his hands moving urgently over Spock's back.

Gasping, he pulled his head away and looked into the hazel eyes, an enormous relief flooding him as he saw the determination there.

"Spock, I know what you're thinking. I do want you - more than ever. Please don't leave me."

"Jim, are you sure?"

"Look at me."

Puzzled, Spock obeyed, and his eyes widened in understanding as he saw that Kirk was once more wearing the brief, clinging silk tunic he had worn in Spock's tent."

"You came to me... like that?"

"No one saw me. And besides... I had to find a way to convince you that I still want to be your bondmate."

He slid his hands under Spock's shirt, producing a shiver of delight. "You want me as much as I want you," he laughed. Rising, he pulled the dazed Vulcan to his feet. "Why don't you take me to bed?" he murmured.

Spock smiled then, and lifted the human into his arms to lay him on the bed, his hands busy stripping away the thin silk, discarding his own irritating clothing. For a moment he paused, looking down at the enticing body sprawled before him, and knowing it was his to take as he wished.

"Jim... I burn," he murmured; then imperious arms closed around his neck, drawing him down, an insolent tongue forced its way into his mouth, and Spock willingly plunged into the hungry sensuality of Kirk' body and mind.

  
***

  
"Spock."

"Mmmm?"

"Do you want to know what I was doing before I came to your quarters?"

The Vulcan raised an inquiring eyebrow, knowing that his lover was teasing.

"What were you doing, Jim?" he asked lazily. An insistent tongue trailed wetly along the newly-healed scar on his chest. "I was on the bridge, setting our course."

"And where are we going?"

"Vulcan."

"Vulcan?" Spock tried to sit up, but Kirk's hands pressed him firmly down onto the bed. "Why should we go to Vulcan?"

"Because... " Kirk nibbled lightly at the tip of a pointed ear and probed it with his tongue. "Because you'll have to arrange for us to be formally bonded there."

"Jim - " Spock caught Kirk's head and raised it so he could look into the laughing eyes. "You'd do that?"

"Of course." Kirk's hand stroked Spock's chest lightly. "We were properly joined by the leader, but I don't think modern Vulcan - or Starfleet - would recognize that. So ..." The wandering hand travelled across Spock's belly, "it seems to me we'd better do it legally - think of the scandal if I sued you for breach of promise."

"You cannot... " Spock's intended words were abruptly cut off as Kirk's hand between his thighs brought a gasp of ecstasy. "Jim!" he moaned, pressing himself closer to the deliciously-cool human body.

Kirk laughed and repeated his caress. "You're mine," he whispered with satisfaction. "You're mine and we both know it."

"If you bond with me formally, everyone else will know, too," Spock warned. "McCoy - "

"McCoy will understand, and so will anyone else who matters," Kirk said quietly. "After all, it's not really so unusual... it's only the fact that I'm human and you're Vulcan that makes us different. It'll be all right, Spock."

"I believe you," Spock murmured, then could say nothing more as Kirk's hands moved again, producing those delightful sensations he thought he would never tire of.

Kirk chuckled again. "You know, Spock - it's a pity you never met Simar."

"Why?" Spock managed to gasp as he shuddered and pulled Kirk on top of him, entwining his legs around his beloved's.

"Well... with his training and your natural ability... just think what a lorath you'd have made:"

As he plunged into his companion's body, Kirk smiled wickedly; he had taught Spock much, and would teach him more, but this was not the least of his achievements - Spock had learned to laugh.


End file.
